


Care Package

by NyxKeilantra413



Series: Sugar Daddy AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Come Eating, Feeding Kink, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Massage, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Naked Cuddling, Sugar Daddy, is it supposed to be partners or pairings??, keith has three (3) sugar daddies whom he is unaware of and kolivan is Stressed™, whatever i'm going with both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxKeilantra413/pseuds/NyxKeilantra413
Summary: In which Keith can't look after himself, acquires three (3) sugar daddies, doesn't realize he has acquired three (3) sugar daddies, and Kolivan witnesses everything while screaming nonstop inwardly.(Note: The prologue first, the smut coming on the 2nd chapter)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My adoring, non-English major freshman housemates: Wow you're so good with English!!  
> Me, who has struggled with present and past tense for this story before rewriting the whole thing: You fool. You kneel before my throne unaware that it was born of lies.

There is a saying about Satan and idle hands. The _Brake of Marmora_ staff, however, seems to have replaced ‘hands’ with ‘tongue’, as they spend their time talking nearly all the time.

It makes sense, however, seeing as the _Brake of Marmora_ is a combined garage and hardware store located in a nameless, peaceful little town, flanked by woods on two sides, a hill on another, and the ocean on the last. With the residents approximating three hundred and cars approximating less than a hundred, it is not often that they are swamped with work. So naturally—just like every other small town business’ employees—they occupy themselves with talking.

The current topic being eagerly discussed this time happens to be their favourite; one which even Kolivan, the stoic, hardened _Brake of Marmora_ proprietor, can’t help but always join in. Said topic is ‘him’.

“I saw _him_ running through the woods again last night,” Thace reports with a resigned sigh.

“ _He_ did not even bring a jacket or a flashlight,” Ulaz adds, mouth pressed in disapproval.

“And _he_ came early to work this morning, too. I bet he’d slept for less than three hours,” Regris says, shamelessly leaving out the fact he has only slept for an hour himself after a night of intense hacking duel with a government hacker.

“Did _he_ have breakfast?” Ulaz inquires, tone sharp.

“You know _he_ only ever eats at the diner, and the diner doesn’t open before nine,” Thace reminds him, before sighing again.

Kolivan, so far, has been listening in silence. So has Antok, who finally decides to chime in with those fatal, fatal words.

“ _He_ needs a lover to look after him.”

The round of agreements replying to this statement only seals the doom that will be cast upon them. For now though, none of them, not even Kolivan “Constant Vigilance” Marmora suspects anything.

It’s a ludicrous notion, after all, that _he_ will have a lover. After twenty-something years of watching _him_ grow up and ignore suitors left and right, they have foolishly settled into a peaceful, comfortable state of mind believing that _he_ would remain as pure as an untouched bud to his dying days.

The words ‘he’ and ‘him’ here, so unobtrusive and innocuous by themselves, do not refer to Kolivan, because he looks after himself and half a dozen other people very well. They do not refer to Antok, because he does not refer to himself in the third person. They also do not refer to Ulaz or Thace. They do not even refer to Regris, one of their two young employees, who resides in the attic of the garage and pops his head down on an irregular interval that makes the ceiling look like some kind of fucked-up upside-down whack-a-mole.

No, the words ‘he’ and ‘him’ refer to none other than Keith Kogane, the other young employee—or rather, _the_ young employee.

Keith, who is the youngest employee at the _Brake of Marmora_.

Keith, who has spent the majority of his infancy, childhood, primary _and_ secondary school days at the _Brake of Marmora_ —at the beginning due to his father working as a handyman whose service was advertised at the hardware store and being both unable and unwilling to afford a babysitter, then due to curiosity over the works done there, then due to habit and troubled school life, and at last due to loneliness after his father left him to find his first and only love, a.k.a. Keith’s mother.

Keith, who because of that, is regarded as the youngest member of the _family_. A real family, mind you, not the mafia kind.

Keith, who despite his excellent abilities in many areas, possesses a presumably incurable inability to comprehend ‘self-care’.

Keith, who because of the aforementioned inability to comprehend self-care, is going to get three of _them_ soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *horror movie opening voice* And the first sugar daddy arrives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have to rewrite this chapter onE MORE GODDAMN TIME- *voice crack*

Ulaz often tells Keith, _you cannot subsist on nutrition pills and canned goods that you don’t even bother microwaving, Keith. Also, you cannot skip meals all the time and make up for it with greasy diner food as if bribing your body to not fail you_.

Keith respects Ulaz too much to answer verbally, but it is clear that his reply is, _watch me_.

To wit, despite Ulaz’ coaxing, Keith still subsists on nutrition pills and canned goods that he doesn’t even bother microwaving. He also still skips meals all the time and makes up for it with greasy diner food as if bribing his body to not fail him.

In Keith’s defence, his body has not failed him so far despite him only feeding it a disgusting amount of cheeseburger and fries after a day and a half of not feeding it anything. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?

(Ignore Thace reminding him, “We are part hardware store with a handyman service, Keith, it’s bad for business to use that kind of thought.”)

Anyway, Keith doesn’t particularly care what, when, where, how much and how often he eats. It’s all the same once it reaches the stomach, in his opinion.

That’s why Hunk Garrett is the first.

* * *

 

When Hunk pulls up in front of _Brake of Marmora_ , none of the staffs—including Keith—spares him any attention.

To be fair, five out of the six staffs are really appreciative of Nice Cars, and Hunk pulls up in a Very Nice Car.

Plus, Hunk—upon seeing a muscled, scarred, hardened, braided man (a.k.a. Kolivan) and a ‘Big with a capital B’ man (a.k.a. Antok) beside him—instantly goes to take cover on the other side of his car.

Hunk Garrett _is_ the heir to a chain of high-class restaurants and possesses a Samoan equivalent to a fictional Indian butler’s Right Hand of God™ when it comes to cooking, but being familiar with knives and fire in the kitchen does not equal to being confident facing scary, scary men.

(The fact—which neither party knows—that Hunk is able to bench-press them does not matter.)

Anyway, as Kolivan, Antok, Thace, and Ulaz bring shame to their spy counterparts in an alternative universe by not noticing Hunk and making awed noises around his Very Nice Car, Hunk successfully crawls around into the garage and approaches the least intimidating employee there.

Said least intimidating employee intimidates Hunk right away with his intense stare.

“Can I help you?” asks Keith, the least intimidating employee, intimidatingly.

Hunk’s first thought is _Please don’t eat me I’m too full of fats that will be a challenge to cook_.

His second thought is _Damn that’s the kind of body I want under me_.

His third thought is _I want to feed him god he is so small has he even had a glass of water_.

His fourth thought is _Do I have feeding kink if I want to feed him and see he becomes plump and healthy? Yeah probably. Should I tell him?_

“Hey so, I know we’ve just met but I’d really like to feed you.”

Keith pauses, frowning outwardly and panicking inwardly because This Person Has Deviated From The Scenario In My Head. He ends up repeating Hunk’s words blankly.

“You... want to feed me.”

“Yeah.”

“...why?”

Hunk wants nothing more than to devour that cherry pout (okay not exactly cherry, Keith’s lips are pale and chapped because he has not drunk a drop of water for more than six hours, but infatuation colours them differently in Hunk’s eyes), but he composes himself and answers.

“Well you see, I really like cooking and I’m accustomed to seeing people obviously well-fed—well, not my best friend, Lance, but he’s just naturally skinny as a straw, or my other best friend, Pidge, but they’re just naturally tiny like a fairy. Or an imp considering their personality, but that is neither here nor there. I love them both, though, don’t get me wrong. Anyway what I am saying is you look like you haven’t eaten for some time. Have you eaten breakfast? Oh no, am I being insensitive? Tell me straight, dude, I’ll keep off the topic if you don’t want me. Anyway, have you eaten breakfast?”

Keith replies with ellipses for approximately ten seconds before shrugging.

“...is it a no.”

“It might or might not be a no,” Keith mumbles, casting a glance half-envious, half-reproachful at his boss and fellow employees and raising an eyebrow at Antok reverently stroking the hood of the Very Nice Car. “I don’t see why it matters much, anyway.”

Hunk is aghast to hear that.

“You don’t see why it matters? You don’t see why breakfast matters?” he repeats, voice disbelieving. “C’mon, man. It’s _breakfast_. It’s literally the most important meal of the day. Do you mean you often skip breakfast?”

Keith crosses his arms. “Could be all the time, yes-”

“Dude!” Hunk grabs Keith’s upper arms, sneaking in an appreciative squeeze of the exposed biceps. “Don’t scare me like that. That’s just—that’s—you know what, come over to my place right now and I will cook you the best breakfast you’d ever have.”

Keith huffs, either amused or offended or both. “Thanks, but I don’t-”

“Have I mentioned that I have a Much Nicer Car that I would be happy to let you drive and/or take apart?”

“Let me ask my boss if I can get off early first.”

* * *

 

Kolivan’s first fatal, fatal mistake is allowing Keith to get off early that day. He even commits a worse error in believing that _this_ may make Keith gain healthier lifestyle.

It does. Oh, it really does—but at what cost?

...

Kindly excuse the dramatic narrative. I have always wanted to ask ‘but at what cost’.

* * *

 

After that day—when Hunk left his broken Very Nice Car at the _Brake of Marmora_ , brought Keith home in his chauffeured Much Nicer Car, and returned him to the _Brake of Marmora_ happily stuffed full of good food and bearing multiple plastic containers of more good food—Hunk begins to visit Keith daily, braving the unspoken displeasure on the face of Kolivan and the suspicion on the face of Antok, along with the mohawk-haired man with Soft Punk™ aesthetic (a.k.a. Ulaz) and the chill-but-probably-not-cool dad-like man (a.k.a. Thace). Of course, he always brings food with him, not unlike a devoted follower bringing offering to their beloved god.

Keith has half-heartedly tried to demur, but ended up succumbing. Despite having starred in Hunk’s dreams as the unbelievably beautiful god of mechanic to whom Hunk sacrifices his Nice Cars, Keith is only a mortal who has recently learnt that Edible Does Not Equal Good. Now, whenever Hunk comes in his Very Nice Car, Keith greets him with a small smile that heats Hunk’s face like a microwave.

“Hi, Keith!” Hunk beams. “Ready for your breakfast?”

Keith opens his mouth to answer, but ends up looking down and frowning at his oil-stained hands. Hunk assumes that Keith is going to wash them, so he ends up choking on his tongue when Keith instead asks, “Can you feed me?”

“Feed? Me?” Hunk points at himself. _You wish to bestow the honour of feeding you to_ _insignificant, little mortal me?_

“No, feed me. As in—me,” Keith points at himself. Hunk almost squeals uncontrollably at Keith’s adorable misunderstanding. Can misunderstanding be adorable? Well, _Keith_ is adorable so who even cares.

Hunk whips open the plastic container at lightning speed, revealing golden-brown fried rice that still lets out warm steam. Hidden between the rice are greens, slices of sausage, as well as prawns and strips of omelette. The mingled smell is delicious enough that Keith visibly perks up and parts his lips open as soon as Hunk has spooned the dish.

As Keith wraps his lips around the spoon, Hunk gazes at Keith’s face, starry-eyed, and not a little bit flustered imagining those lips wrapped around what definitely isn’t a spoon. As Keith draws his head back and begins to chew, cheeks puffed like a very pleased, oil-stained, slightly muscled chipmunk, Hunk not-so-subtly adjusts the way he sits to conceal what definitely isn’t a spoon, with the hopeful assumption that Keith will be too absorbed by the motorbike and the food to notice.

Alas, he _does_ notice, and Hunk chokes on his tongue a second time when Keith asks, “Do you want me to lend a hand?”

“What.”

“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” he says, gesturing to Hunk’s ~~definitely-not-a-spoon~~ cock so mildly that one may think he’s gesturing to a mundane everyday object. “You’ve been feeding me all the time and I want to return the favour somehow.”

“What.”

“Besides, I...” then Keith blushes, so pretty like pink and white cream. “I enjoy your company? And—and I think you enjoy mine too. I’d like to think we’re at least friends.”

“Wha—wait I already said that word twice. But really, Keith, you want to suck me off? Because I have been a good friend?”

_Is this friendzoning? Or is this the opposite of friendzoning?? Am I a fuckboy for using the term friendzoning??? Wait, why am I zoning?_

At last, he manages to stutter, “I, I really appreciate it, Keith, but I don’t think you should.”

Keith’s expression is subtle, a drop at the corner of his lips, a slight widening of the eyes, a twitch of the eyebrows—but it’s enough that Hunk is ready to tear off his own testicles and present it to Keith octopus-style if it will prevent Keith from looking like that again.

“Why?” Keith asks. Hunk sputters.

“Because, because—well,” he clears his throat. “I’m... _big_ , you see. A bit, well, _bigger than average_.”

Keith deadpans. “You’re big.”

He nods. “I’m big.”

“Well, _I’m_ determined,” Keith crosses his arms and stares at Hunk as if challenging him to choke him with that bigger than average cock.

Hunk’s bigger than average cock has no objection to that, but Hunk’s mind does.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before, Keith?”

At that, Keith falters. A strawberry-pink blush rises to his cheeks as he mumbles, “No...”

“Then,” Hunk internally screams, but outwardly he remains calm. “We must find an alternative.”

“Yeah,” Keith smiles at him in relief, before glancing down at the tent behind Hunk’s cargo pants. Then he looks like he has an idea. “Why don’t you come on my mouth and I swallow your come?”

Hunk chokes. “Y, you—would you like to?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t.”

“Then _holy quiznak yes_.”

Keith blinks, suddenly finding himself on his knees. He lifts his head up before jerking back in surprise and not a little embarrassment at the sight of Hunk’s sizeable ~~definitely-not-a-spoon~~ cock. Alright, yeah, there’s no way he can suck a cock that big... _yet_.

As Hunk begins to rapidly jerk himself off, Keith absently makes a note to buy the biggest dildo he can afford and practice on it. You know, because he wants to make his friend happy.

Keith is torn between watching Hunk’s cock and face, both equally attractive. When he notices Hunk has closed his eyes in ecstasy, he bites back a mischievous grin and leans forward to give the head of Hunk’s cock a kitten-lick.

Hunk instinctively jerks forward, knocking the head of his cock against Keith’s face and making him _deities is that a giggle how can someone be so cute and so sexy at the same time is this your blessing that I didn’t orgasm right away??_

Feeling his orgasm is approaching, Hunk croaks out, “Open your mouth, Keith.”

Keith obliges, even sticking his pink tongue out. Hunk groans, both at the sight and at his orgasm. Sticky, white fluid comes in strips over Keith’s tongue, with some reaching his cheeks and even one eye, forcing him to close that eye.

“Fuck,” Hunk breathes, expression awed. “You look so delicious like this, Keith.”

Keith wipes the come from over his cheeks and eye with the back of one hand, before bringing said hand to his mouth and licking the come there, making Hunk groan again. Keith swallows everything before smirking up at Hunk, as _delicious_ as his come-splattered face.

“So, wanna stick with this until I get the hang of sucking a cock?”

“If you were an incubus, Keith, I would lose my life instantly.”

“Is that a no?”

“Of course it’s a yes. I will cover your face with so much come you’d look like you get marinated.”

* * *

 

“You do not look so thin anymore, Keith,” Thace comments, quiet approval showing in his voice.

Keith looks up at him before ducking his head, trying to hide a small, shy smile. “I guess...”

Ulaz is on his way to brave Kolivan’s wrath by complimenting Keith’s... acquaintance, but stops short at _something_ he spots.

Everything seems to pause when he sees it.

“Keith,” Ulaz begins, voice small. “What is that?”

He points out at a certain white, cream-like patch, so stark on the neck of Keith’s black shirt. Thace, Antok, and Kolivan stop and stare as well. Regris, finally appearing in this fanfiction, shoots his head up (or down?) from the ceiling and nearly falls off as he gasps in shock.

Keith’s face turns red, but then he chuckles sheepishly and gives Ulaz an innocent smile, never considering how his answer is going to turn their (as in the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs, not including himself) world upside down.

“Well... I mean, it’s _not_ cream. Sorry about that, really.”

No one has the heart to judge Kolivan when he stoically consumes a whole tub of ice cream that night. No one has the heart to inform Keith as to why Kolivan becomes that way too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking at the unholy patchwork juggernaut built out of words I combined in a way much worse than the paladins' first attempt at forming Voltron: Look at my child go
> 
> Sorry if this chapter doesn't live up to expectation!! Thank you very much for your kind comments!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the second daddy appears...
> 
> ...and kinda kidnaps Keith??? I have no draft, it just flowed that way from my hands.

Ulaz often tells Keith, _you can’t neglect taking a shower and brushing your teeth all the time, Keith. Also, don’t put the finger you just scratched your ass with into your mouth to get a bit of food stuck there, that’s hella nasty, child_.

Keith respects Ulaz too much (and still has the finger he just scratched his ass with in his mouth to get a bit of food stuck there) to answer verbally, but it is clear that his reply is, _watch me_.

I’d like to affirm that the reply _watch me_ here does not indicate that Keith delights in exhibitionism.

To wit, despite Ulaz’ coaxing, Keith still neglects taking a shower and brushing his teeth all the time. He also—you know what, see above. But in Keith’s unspoken defence, his skin has no acne, his hair has no dandruff, and his teeth are perfect although the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs know he has never set foot in a dental office in his life.

It’s as if the deities bless him with beauty to compensate for cursing him an awful secondary school life, really. _Hey bro, sorry we gotta get you shunned by everyone, we couldn’t resist turning you into a misunderstood bad boy. At least you’ll be pretty no matter what, so we’re cool, right?_

No, they’re not cool. Keith gives them the middle finger, with the finger he—see above.

Anyway, Keith doesn’t particularly care about his hygiene. No one has fainted or broken into rash due to his (bafflingly Good™) smell, so why should he care that much?

That’s why Lance McClain is the second.

* * *

 

Now, the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs have learnt from experience. They now regard every Nice Car, Very Nice Car, and—with considerable difficulties and tests of self-control—Much Nicer Car with not a little suspicion. Hunk they have taken to ignore, with the hope that the old adage ‘out of sight, out of mind’ will apply.

(Spoiler: It will not. Kolivan will still be woken up by nightmares of Keith drowning in what-may-be-or-may-not-be vanilla ice cream while moaning with delight.)

The _Brake of Marmora_ staffs, however, have failed to take into consideration the possibility of a new threat skateboarding to their establishment, sporting a lethal combination of crop top with the word ‘Lit’ bedazzled in blue, snapback, faded daisy dukes, and designer shades while carrying an expensive coffee shop’s frappe.

Regris takes one look at the new threat before gasping in awe. “My people have come.”

He is subsequently shooed back into the ~~lair~~ attic with a broom by Antok.

The new threat does not seem to require the garage, which is good because Antok fears Kolivan will haemorrhage trying to deal with said new threat. He—as in the new threat, not Antok—instead goes to the hardware area.

“Hey there, name’s Lance. May I have a name to go with that beautiful—oh shit sorry, sir, it’s reflex.”

“No harm done,” answers kindly, patient, understanding, saintly Thace. “How may I help you?”

“Oh yeah, my family just moved nearby and Mama wants to decorate...”

The new threat, named Lance, begins to rattle off the various ‘home improvements’ his Mama wants done, with Thace deftly jotting down the necessary items and/or service alongside approximate cost. Antok absently keeps an ear open since he has nothing else to listen to and Lance seems to possess a tendency to slip in amusing anecdotes between his opinion of ‘cream versus ivory’ or such.

“And the pearl-white is like, not even in a pattern? It’s just abstract and splattered all over the cream background, like that one time my BFF Hunk did the do with a _friend_ of his...”

Several things happen right away.

Thace stops his note-taking (which has long since devolved into doodling ‘Thulaz’ surrounded with tiny hearts) and stares dead at Lance.

Antok stops his eavesdropping and stares dead at Lance.

Regris stops whatever attic-dweller thing he has been doing, pokes his head out of the opening, and stares dead at Lance.

Kolivan would have dramatically slammed the table and risen to his feet before staring dead at Lance too, but Ulaz has gently, yet firmly, steered him away to the employee nap room, even though _he_ himself stares dead at Lance.

Keith, who heartlessly abuses the lack of urgent work at the _Brake of Marmora_ by generally coming and going whenever he wants and therefore has only arrived at work now, stops and stares dead at Lance.

In conclusion, everyone stares dead at Lance, prompting him to glance all over himself before wrapping his arms around his abdomen protectively.

“...what are you guys looking at me like that for?”

“Yeah, what has this guy done?” Keith adds, jutting out a thumb at Lance for emphasis, as though his question may be wrongly interpreted to mean the trash can or the broom and mop beside Lance.

No one answers Keith, not only because none of the _Brake of Marmora_ employees wants to relive the mental image, but also because Lance has taken offense to be so carelessly referred to as ‘this guy’.

Listen, Lance did not work his secretly-admittedly-not-so-plush tush off at cosmetology school and become an overworked, underpaid intern at his family’s cosmetic company until he got trusted with several beauty parlours to manage just so _this guy_ can refer to Lance as _this guy_ , okay?

Okay.

“Excuse me? You can ask _me_ , you know?” he asks, jutting out a thumb at himself for emphasis, as though his question may be wrongly interpreted to mean the trash can or the broom and mop beside him.

Now the truth is that Keith is _shy_ around strangers, and deep down he is a ball of anxiety waiting for the day he says the wrong thing to the wrong person and Kolivan will sacrifice himself to save Keith from becoming the wrong person’s plaything. The truth is also that Keith is _shy_ to admit his shyness, therefore he responds to Lance with a shrug calculated to project the right amount of nonchalance.

Naturally, this response rather vexes Lance, who retaliates with the worst insult he can think of;

“Ugh! You’re so nasty! Just look at yourself!”

Keith looks at his oil-stained overalls and his black t-shirt that he has worn for three days straight, before lifting an eyebrow at Lance.

“I don’t get what you mean,” he replies, making Lance almost fume. “You’re so... _aesthetic_ anyway. Just look at yourself.”

Lance gasps, offended despite ‘aesthetic’ not being an offensive word, and looks at his own outfit before lifting an eyebrow back at Keith, complete with the crossed arms.

“I don’t get what you mean,” he mimics haughtily. Keith scowls, making Lance scowl back and push his face up close to Keith’s own before hissing, “Listen here you quiznaking-”

He trails off suddenly. Keith loosens his tense posture, but keeps a wary eye on Lance who proceeds to grab his shoulders (momentarily forgetting or ignoring Keith’s nastiness) and _sniff_.

“Uh, dude?”

“Shush, kiddo. The professional is working.”

“What professional—Kolivan’s braid that’s _cold_.”

“What’s cold? Oh quiznak, my frappe. Sorry, dude. But if you think _that_ ’s cold, wait until you shove an icicle up your ass. Now _that_ is cold.”

“What.”

“What.”

“...nothing.”

(By this time, Antok has gone inside the nap room to offer silent comfort to Kolivan rigidly lying on the mattress, Ulaz has gone to talk with Thace who suddenly sees fit to practice throwing discus with his notebook, and Regris has gone back to his laptop in the attic.)

* * *

 

Long story short, Lance realizes that despite his disgusting hygiene, Keith is surprisingly, undeniably, unerringly, impossibly, eerily, _dangerously_ , _inhumanely_ pretty.

(“Do you really need that much adverbs for one adjective?”)

As a result, Lance demands that Keith go with him to Lance’s beauty parlour and get a full makeover, partially to see if he can be made even prettier to rival Aphrodite and Adonis, partially to check if the beauty is side-effect earned from being a supernatural and/or extraterrestrial individual. Please keep in mind that the three consecutive -al suffixes there is totally unintentional.

“Either you go with me,” Lance says, “or you admit right here and now that you are chicken.”

“Excuse me?” Keith’s eyes narrow, his brows furrow, his lips curl into a snarl.

“Go on, I dare you,” Lance continues on, smugly. “No, wait— _I triple dog dare you_.”

A horrified gasp, and the next thing Keith knows, he is standing in the beauty parlour, Lance giving instructions to his employees.

“I want this one to get full makeover, everyone. Expose his potentials, push it to the limit, and jump over said limit.”

The cooing voices and glinting eyes of the females descending upon Keith will haunt him forever, not unlike the sight of cream in Keith’s vicinity will haunt Kolivan forever. Lance lounges back and nods in approval, shouting new order several more times.

“Don’t forget to give him full body wax too, girls!”

“FUCK YOU!”

* * *

 

It is a scared, scarred man that stumbles out of what is probably a torture dungeon in his birthday suit. Said scared, scarred man seems to be too shaken to retaliate with more than a feral glare when Lance wolf-whistles.

I’d like to affirm that the ‘scarred’ part here is only mentally, as physically speaking, the scared, scarred man a.k.a. Keith now has skin as smooth as a newborn babe.

“My hard-earned calluses... My trophy scars... All _gone_.”

Keith does not grip his head above the eyes as tears slip down his cheeks to the floor, but he does groan soulfully enough to make Lance feel a teensy-weensy bit bad.

“Hey, dude, sorry about that. We all got a bit intense when we see someone like you. You know, diamond in the rough? Or would you prefer ruby? I daresay you’ll look good in red. Perhaps a red leather jacket?”

“I want a half-jacket that won’t go down past my chest and can’t be zipped up,” Keith replies with a voice as dead as a corpse. Plural corpses.

“...how about I give you a massage instead?”

Lance wiggles his fingers, tempting Keith to break them one by one as ~~his tormentors~~ the girls have broken his spirit during the ~makeover~.

He manages to resist the temptation, though, and after snatching a fluffy white towel and wrapping it around him with a huff, plops down on the conveniently close-by massage table.

Lance mentally compares Keith’s manner to that of the adorable, perpetually disgruntled stray cat that lives atop the dumpster behind his establishment. Even the angle of their plops is identical.

It is only when he has straddled Keith’s prone figure, smeared a dollop of white organic cream over Keith’s back, and worked his magic so well that Keith actually lets out a long, satisfied sigh that Lance realizes that this situation he has inadvertently brought himself into is very Gay™.

When Lance _has_ realized it though, his cock doesn’t take very long to respond with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm.

“What is— _aah_ —that thing poking between my— _ngh_ —ass?”

“Why, mullet, did you forget that stick you shove up your ass every morning?” Lance possesses two reflexes: to flirt with anyone remotely attractive and/or daddy-like and to make smart-ass remark to surly, pretty guys he is not-so-secretly lusting after.

“It’s not a mullet-!” Keith protests before pausing, eyes widening at the unmistakable tent under Lance’s jeans. The look he gives Lance is almost enough to make the tent deflate.

Only almost, because then he groans and gestures at Lance. “Just—jack off real quick or whatever, why don’t you. Here, I’ll even let you come on my face if that’d mean you’ll finish sooner. My friend Hunk says my face can cure impotence, you might as well try it.”

Lance’s first thought is _Huh, funny, my friend Hunk says his friend’s face can cure impotence too_.

Lance’s second thought is _Wait, I doubt there are two friends named Hunk who says his friend’s face can cure impotence_.

Lance’s third thought is _This nasty, pretty guy with a mullet is Hunk’s ‘friend’? The one whom Hunk has been sugar daddy-ing?? The one who’s actually offered to ~lend Hunk a hand~??? I thought he would look more like a sexual deviant!_

Lance’s fourth thought is _Wait, this nasty, pretty guy with a mullet just said he’d let me come on his face. He_ is _a sexual deviant_.

“Dude, no!” he yells. The offended look on Keith’s face further confirms Lance’s theory of him being a sexual deviant. “That’s totally messed up! I can’t do that when we don’t know each other!”

Keith’s answer is precise, swift, and deadly in its efficiency. “But flirting with a much older man and practically abducting another person to give them a ~makeover~ is totally fine?”

“...would you terribly mind if I fucked your thighs instead?”

“Well, it’s sure going to make you finish in less than a-”

Keith lets out what he will never admit to be a squeak as Lance flips him on his stomach and yanks his hips up, wrenching off the towel and giving Keith’s thighs a thorough caress. A shudder goes up Keith’s back as he feels cream being applied inside his thighs.

“What is that for?”

“To lubricate it, duh. If it’s not lubricated, it’ll feel like going down a water slide without water.”

“...you mean, like going down a regular slide?”

Lance answers by squeezing Keith’s knees together and pokes the head of his cock between the smooth skin. He moans as his cock pushes through, recalling every single E-rated fanfiction he’s read where the word ‘velvety’ is used. Those authors, regardless of them being underage virgins, aren’t wrong.

Keith bites the padding of the massage table, hoping it’s not nasty and will suffice for concealing his own moans. His thighs tremble as he feels Lance’s cock brushing against the underside of his, making him want to come too.

Lance, feeling Keith is going to collapse, tightens his grip on Keith’s hips, groping or pinching his ass now and then so Keith will make more of those cute sounds. Darn, he should have asked permission to hotdog Keith instead.

Lance comes before Keith, as Keith holds himself back on sheer spite, but Keith lets go as soon as Lance is done. Lance collapses on top of Keith, forcing him to lie down on a puddle of their mixed come, so with a judiciously aimed elbow Keith bucks Lance off the table and onto the floor. Keith smirks at Lance’s pained yelp before raising his head and blinking in realization—not unlike the cat Lance has inwardly compared him with.

“...you know, I never got your name before.”

“Wow, what a gentleman you are, mul—oh wait, I never got yours either.”

“...”

“...”

“Keith.”

“Lance. See you next week?”

* * *

 

“How long has he been there?”

Ulaz’ voice is gentle as he asks, his eyes not straying from the closed bathroom door. A spray of water is audible through it.

“Three-quarters an hour,” Antok answers, his own voice gruff yet concerned. “I’m going to break down the door if it gets to one hour. Can’t risk him drowning himself there.”

Considering that the communal bathroom in the _Brake of Marmora_ is barely bigger than a standard upright bathtub, Antok’s concern is valid.

Thace crosses his arms in disapproval. “Can’t you force open the door with a crowbar instead?”

“Or pick the lock,” Regris suggests.

“Or,” Ulaz interjects with a mighty frown, “ _knock_ on the door and politely ask him to come out.”

The varying looks he receives make Ulaz sympathize with his employer. If everyone acts like this all the time, no wonder Kolivan considers it imperative to lock himself up in the bathroom so long. Even without Keith coming home late, with a suspiciously blissful face on tottering legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me at 17:51, after nearly a whole week of no writing due to noise problem before forcing myself to ignore aforementioned noise problem and write: dONE
> 
> My father has taken to spend his time listening to religious videos on his phone and the demon co-writing this story with me gets writer's block anytime he hears the videos :"(


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the third (and thankfully for the BOM staff's sanity, the last) sugar daddy arrives...

Ulaz, despite being resigned in the knowledge that Keith has always ignored, is still ignoring, and very likely will ignore it, often tells Keith, _you cannot go to sleep at five in the morning and expect to be functional working at eight, Keith. Also, what do you even do in the woods every night, I know that rumour in secondary school of you hunting and/or dating a cryptid is unfounded, do not try to fool me_.

Keith respects Ulaz too much to answer verbally, but it is clear that his reply is, _actually I do try to get to bed at a respectable hour, except I just can’t fall asleep? And I wasn’t going to try to fool you, not my fault you actually believed me when I said it as sarcasm and Kolivan organized a cryptid-hunt for two weeks. Also, what I do in the woods every night is my business and none of yours, sorry not sorry, Ulaz_.

Okay, so Keith’s reply is not very clear. At least he’s not only replying with _watch me_ again...?

To wit, despite Ulaz’ kindly, patient, caring, sincere coaxing which Keith tries not to dwell into as it possesses high potential of making him feel guilty, Keith still goes to sleep at five in the morning and expects to be functional working at eight. He also—wait, this last part cannot be paraphrased. Well, basically Keith also still does something he doesn’t want to explain in the woods every night.

(My theory is that Keith is only jogging through the woods to tire himself out and help himself fall asleep, but that’s boring, so feel free to make up your own theory.)

Anyway, Keith doesn’t care about his sleep schedule despite it being fucked up the ass with Tabasco sauce as lubricant. He works well enough to not accidentally murder himself in the dumbest manner possible—such as chugging motor oil instead of coffee, which may or may not have been committed by ~~Regris~~ someone he will not name—and he still ~~randomly loses consciousness~~ naps to catch up on sleep, anyway.

That’s why Shirogane Takashi is the third... and fortunately for the sanity of the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs, the last.

* * *

 

According to Confucius, there are three ways to gain wisdom: By reflection, which is noblest; by imitation, which is easiest; and by experience, which is bitterest.

Never let it be said that the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs are not wise, bitter, dubiously old men. They have learnt from their experience. New threat can appear in any form or manner possible. Now they have taken to look askance at every _creature_ that comes in contact with Keith, including the three-legged stray cat that Keith has taken to feed on his break.

In the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs’ defence, Keith is enough of an anime protagonist that the equally wise, if less bitter townspeople are only waiting for the day a giant robot or aliens descend from the sky and terrorize earth, forcing Keith to unlock his secret superpower to save everyone at the nick of time. The possibility of him rescuing the aforementioned three-legged stray cat from being hit by a car, driven by a seemingly cold yet actually heartbroken millionaire who desperately yearns for a spark in his life that turns out to be Keith and the three-legged cat they will in the end raise together after a super slow burn full of unresolved sexual tension, is disconcertingly, astronomically high.

...wait, that’s not an anime plot. That’s a K-drama plot.

(...or maybe it is? I’m not well-informed concerning romance anime.)

In the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs’  attack, despite the increased Constant Vigilance, none of them ever stops to consider the possibility of a new threat appearing while Keith is doing his handyman service duty. But in the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs’ defence again, Kolivan—after being terrorized for a whole week with nightmares of seeing Keith being lathered in whipped cream and skin cream while making suspicious faces and noises—has fallen, sending the others to panic, not unlike baby chickens whose mother hen gets taken to the slaughter house.

(...do chickens get butchered at slaughter-houses, or is it just cattle? Do hens even get butchered? I’m not well-informed concerning poultry farming either; the multiple graves of chickens at varying stages of life in my backyard can attest to that.)

Anyway Kolivan has fallen, and the huge-eyed, shocked, ‘the-person-whom-I-thought-was-invincible-apparently-is-not-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do’ expression on Keith’s face is too much for the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs to bear, so Regris tactfully sends him to see to the handyman service request they conveniently just got.

Said handyman service request brings Keith to the hill bordering the nameless, peaceful little town this story is set in. Or more specifically, the ~exclusive~ neighbourhood located on the hill.

Or more, _more_ specifically, the residence of none other than Takashi Shirogane in the ~exclusive~ neighbourhood located on the hill.

“Brake of Marmora Handyman Service? ...sir?”

Shiro silently picks up his jaw from the floor. Absently, he muses, _I thought handymen in porn are supposed to look like they’d top_.

Takashi Shirogane is many things. The pride and joy of the family to his parents. The unfathomably perfect, Nice Guy to his former schoolmates. The capable, cool-headed CEO of a multi-billion dollar company that spans across the world to his subordinates and business partners and/or rivals. The obscenely muscular eye candy to anyone he passes by on the street. The nightmare to his kitchen.

And now, the pitiful, sexually repressed man who hasn’t gotten laid in more than a year and nearly orgasmed at the sight of (not) his handyman.

Well, Keith is naturally beautiful. Even when his eating habit equalled that of a racoon’s and his hygiene was nonexistent, people still spare him a second, third or nth glance.

Now, though, with plump thighs and rosy lips, glowing skin and silken hair, Keith ought to be glad that he works in a peaceful little town. He will get devoured alive, regurgitated, and then devoured again by model scouts otherwise. Being a merely muscular mortal, Shiro doesn’t stand a chance.

The handyman service itself is done with a scary efficiency. Within fifteen minutes Keith is done and is staring at the town visible through a window, big purple eyes so wistful and wrought with concern that Shiro is prepared to lead a group of rebels and defeat a tyrant bent on conquering the universe if those eyes turn to him with pleas.

As Keith doesn’t even look at him, Shiro ends up trying to make small talk with him instead.

“So do you go to school?”

“No.”

“Oh, you work, then?”

Keith stares at his work coveralls before turning to stare at Shiro. “Yes.”

Shiro beams as he imagines defenestrating himself from the top floor of his mansion.

“I’m sorry for requesting service so early, by the way. I had no idea whether your workplace opens at eight, but well...” _I needed help gathering the mutilated corpse of my old microwave and installing the new one, besides cleaning up the not-really-crime scene before my housekeeper comes and gives me a judgemental look my dignity possibly can’t recover from_ remains unside.

Keith shrugs. “It’s fine. My workplace does open at eight, and we take turn opening the shop thirty minutes beforehand.”

Shiro makes a considering noise at the info. “Got to sleep early the night before your turn, then?”

“More like I don’t sleep at all so I won’t be late-”

Shiro, a hypocrite who habitually stays in his office and works with no sleep for three days straight before his body fails him, gasps, “That’s unhealthy.”

Keith responds by giving Shiro a look his whole being possibly can’t recover from. “Just because my brain knows that doesn’t mean my body will suddenly aid me to sleep right away at night,” he huffs. “I don’t understand why but I just can’t sleep most nights. I end up going to the woods instead until morning comes, and take naps during the day.”

He refrains from adding that the naps are taken involuntarily.

“But that’s still not good for your health,” Shiro frowns.

“Believe me, if I could sleep I would,” Keith replies, not adding _unless I find something interesting to do, which is pretty often since I have a tendency of googling the most obscure things as soon as I’m in bed_. “My... uh, Hunk got me chamomile tea and other stuff he says would help with sleep, and Lance got me—I dunno, some skincare thing? Moisturizer and whatever, which _he_ says would help me to at least relax. None helps.”

“Oh,” Shiro says. “Well, glad to know you have friends who care so much-”

“And they both insist that orgasm would make feel sleepy, but I got dicked down so much I couldn’t walk or talk for a whole day _and I still couldn’t sleep_ ,” Keith utters the italicized part with a frustrated sigh, before he blinks and turns his big purple eyes at Shiro, brows scrunched up and cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant.”

Shiro reflects that he has finally understood how getting kicked at the chest by a kangaroo feels like. It’s exhilarating.

Then his brain finally catches up with Keith’s rant and boggles at the realization.

“Hold on, you did what with your friends?”

Keith flushes and averts his eyes. “Well, not really all the way? Lance prefers fucking my thighs and Hunk prefers my mouth, and Hunk is still too big for me to deepthroat-”

Shiro.exe has stopped working.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to blab like this-”

Shiro snaps back into reality. His traitorous mouth blurts out, “Would you be so kind to allow me try giving you an orgasm.”

A beat passes as Keith pauses and stares up at Shiro while Shiro pauses and stares down at Keith. Shiro manages to whisper hoarsely,

“Please.”

Another beat passes as Keith frowns up at Shiro while Shiro beseechingly stares down at Keith.

“Yeah, sure.”

The next moment, Keith has taken off his uniform and placed them carelessly folded on the table by Shiro’s humongous four-poster bed. Shiro picks his jaw from the floor again before taking off his own clothes.

“You sure it’s fine we do this on your bed?” Keith asks, hesitantly placing his unclothed, callipygian butt on the pure black silk bedding.

 _You’re welcome to do anything you want on my bed for eternity_ , Shiro answers inwardly. He manages to restrain his Gay™, though, and gives Keith a composed smile.

“Of course it’s fine,” he says. “But how—ah, how _far_ do you want to go?”

Keith doesn’t answer right away. He peers at Shiro’s half-erect cock before smiling sheepishly at him.

“Uh, do you mind just fingering me? Then you can fuck my thighs or mouth, whichever you prefer.”

Shiro’s half-erect cock turns fully erect. He makes a strangled noise that can be interpreted as _I’m pretty sure I could come just by being touched by you_ before dropping down to his knees, gently yet firmly grabbing a smooth, plump thigh out of the way as he blows hot air against the puckered pink hole.

Keith squeaks surprised, his hand flying to cover his mouth. Shiro snatches a bottle of lube from his nightstand and squeezes out a generous amount, warming it between his fingers as Keith watches in fascinated silence.

Shiro’s fingertips brush fleetingly around Keith’s rim, giving gentle prodding that’s no more than a tap at his hole a few times before circling the rim once more. Shiro’s other hand is still holding one of Keith’s trembling thighs, his thumb absently rubbing the creamy, hairless (Lance _adores_ shaving Keith) skin back and forth.

Shiro dips his finger into Keith’s hole, halfway to the first knuckle before he withdraws, and dips it again fully to the first knuckle. When he withdraws his finger again, though, Keith hisses, impatient, and swings his free leg over Shiro’s shoulder, practically forcing the man’s nose against his balls.

“Just get on with it!”

Shiro has no objection to the position. He does, however, object to being ordered about. Keith’s breath hitches when Shiro turns smouldering eyes at him, not breaking eye contact as he mouthes and sucks at Keith’s inner thigh.

“Shi-!”

“Say please and I will consider,” Shiro’s mouth lets go of Keith’s thigh before giving the newly formed hickey a butterfly kiss.

Keith gives Shiro a look that says he’d much rather say _fuck you in the ass with Tabasco sauce_ , but a brush of Shiro’s finger around his perineum makes him choke out, “ _Please_ just get on with it.”

Shiro beams and delivers. One finger slides in, then two, then three, then they curl and spread and, upon finding Keith’s prostate and making Keith yelp, hit the bundle of nerves relentlessly, until Keith comes with an arched back and curled toes.

Shiro watches, tranfixed by rosy lips forming an ‘O’ and purple eyes becoming glassy. Pulling out his fingers, Shiro wraps them around his cock and gestures at Keith.

“May I...?”

Keith garbles his permission. Shiro jerks himself off, grunting in satisfaction as the strips of cum fall on Keith’s already stained stomach. The two men share a smile before Shiro lies down beside him.

“Thank you, Shiro, I-” a yawn cuts off Keith’s words. He blinks, surprised upon realizing he is sleepy.

“Oh?” Shiro chuckles. “It seems that orgasming _does_ help you fall asleep.”

Keith responds with a cat-like huff, making Shiro let out the un-manliest combination of cooing and squealing in his mind.

He smiles at Keith’s adorably sleepy face, running his hand through Keith’s black locks as he says more to himself, “I’m glad you are happy with your sugar daddies, Keith.”

Keith, who has just been nuzzling his pillow happily, pauses. He frowns, “What are sugar daddies?”

Five seconds of ellipses go by before Shiro finally gathers himself and whispers soulfully, “Keith, what the heck do you think Hunk and Lance are?”

“My... friends?”

“Keith, I acknowledge that friends often do take care of each other, but _they do not take care of each other that way_.”

All traces of sleep vanish from Keith’s eyes, shock instead filling them. “They _don’t_?!”

“Keith, be honest with me: Who gave you sex talk?!”

* * *

 

“So Shiro told me what a sugar daddy is, and I asked Hunk and Lance if they’re my sugar daddies. We decided we like each other enough to at least try dating, though, so Hunk, Lance and Shiro are dating me now,” Keith ends his explanation, before cocking his head and adding rather absently, “No idea if they’re dating each other as well, though. I haven’t got the hang of all this relationship yet.”

He turns back and looks at the _Brake of Marmora_ proprietor and employees—his family in all but blood, even from before Keith’s father leaving him. Thace is the first to break the silence.

“That’s understandable,” he nods.

“Good for you, kid,” Antok adds.

“Do remember to be safe, Keith,” Ulaz risks cautioning the youngest of their family, none-too-subtly sliding a shoebox full of colourful packets of condom and lube. He ignores the part-nonplussed, part-awed, part-scared looks he’s getting from the others (aside from Thace, who has a questionable hint of red colour on his face) with a bland expression.

Kolivan rises from his seat, making Keith subconsciously tense up as he places both hands on Keith’s shoulders and solemnly tells him, “We love and support you, Keith, and I speak on the others’ behalf that we are glad you are healthy and happy.”

The relief and joy in Keith’s face is worth all the nightmares, the _Brake of Marmora_ staffs conclude.

* * *

 

As soon as Keith leaves, though, Kolivan’s hands switch to grip Regris’ own shoulders, making the younger raise his tablet protectively over his chest.

“Regris.”

“Y, yes, sir? I mean, Kolivan?”

“You are holding the last shred of peace I have left. I will not be so selfish to ask you to refrain from dating or—procreating—but I must ask you one thing:

Please, don’t have sugar daddies like Keith. Not even one.”

Kolivan doesn’t wait for Regris’ answer. He squeezes Regris’ shoulders, heaves a heart-wrenching sigh, and trudges into the nap room, closing the door softly behind him. Regris stares at the closed door as one by one, Antok, Thace and Ulaz pat his head, back or shoulder, giving him a smile.

Regris remains in his spot, telling the oil stain under his feet, “I don’t know what to feel about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture me wrestling my procrastination like an alligator as I try to finish writing this chapter.  
> Sorry this chapter is so late! I forgot how I wanted to add spanking to the story, so I ended up changing it orz  
> Thank you so much for y'all who gave me kudos despite me neglecting it for multiple weeks too!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's barely a mention of Keith or his three (3) sugar daddies, since this is only an epilogue ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *look at 200+ kudos* *whisper* You'll be... my living legacy
> 
> Seriously guys, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, I don't deserve this.

An Extremely Fancy Car pulls up before the _Brake of Marmora_ , and out of it comes a fashionably dressed young man. The young man’s white hair, pulled up in a ponytail, swishes behind his back as he takes his designer sunglasses off and beams at the men inside.

“Good evening, gentlemen, I am Lotor Galra, and-”

“No.”

The rest of the _Brake of Marmora_ turn and stare as Kolivan slams his palms on the desk and growls.

“No. Absolutely _not_.”

He pushes himself to his feet and leaves the room in what on any other mortal must be described as a huff.

Antok, Thace, Ulaz, and Regris stare at each other. They nod quietly and walk after Kolivan, leaving Lotor to delicately arch an eyebrow at their back.

“Well, I’d say,” he scoffs. “Quite a service you have!”

Lotor tosses his head, but realizing that he has no audience, glances back at his car.

“...now how am I supposed to get my car repaired?”

That night, after a long and intense discussion (a real one, not a ‘discussion’), Kolivan decides to quit his job as _Brake of Marmora_ proprietor and resume his former, less stressful job as a government spy. Antok, Thace, Ulaz, and Regris follow him. Keith inherits the _Brake of Marmora_ and keeps dating his three boyfriends while keeping in contact with his former boss and fellow employees.

The former _Brake of Marmora_ staffs—now known as _Blade of Marmora_ —are only dreading the day that Keith informs them of his wedding.

* * *

 

_"Dad... I’m getting married.”_

_Keith beams at Kolivan, even with his eyes glistening with unshed tears. His slender form is clad in a simple, white wedding dress with a long lace veil over his black locks. On his hands, clad in white silk fingerless gloves, is a bouquet of spirea with white streaming ribbons. Keith holds the bouquet close to his chest as he continues on._

_“Thank you for everything, Dad. This is the happiest day of my life. Goodbye...”_

Kolivan’s eyes snap open. Cold sweat trickles down his back. He remains metaphorically frozen (this part must be confirmed, because being a spy means it is always possible that he gets literally frozen instead) in his bed for a few moments, before shakily returning to sleep.

A spy’s sleep is always riddled with nightmares, Kolivan reflects.

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, but we should just end this.”

“What?” Matthew Holt, heir to the largest tech company in the world, yelps in alarm. “Why?”

Sitting across of him outside of a cutesy little cafe, Regris makes a subdued face as he shakes his head. “I do care about you,” he says. “But I care more about my family. Kolivan disapproves of me having a sugar daddy, and besides...”

Regris rises to his feet, not caring—or rather, pretending to not care—that Matt has scrambled to his own feet and is extending his hand. Regris will never rival Keith as a shounen anime protagonist, but the situation is sufficiently dramatic for a gust of wind to appear out of nowhere and blow his hair as he stares off into the horizon, while sad music plays in the background.

“...I’m going to be rich, anyway. Rich enough that I won’t be needing you anymore.”

Matt stays silent, not averting his wistful eyes from Regris. His breath hitches when Regris suddenly spins back and clasps his hand on top of Matt’s own, staring straight—or as straight as possible when Matt wears glasses and neither of them is heterosexual—into Matt’s eyes.

“Thank you for being my sugar daddy. I’ll remember you fondly, but you’d better stay in memory.”

Regris wrings Matt’s hand, then leaves him without another word. Matt chokes before collapsing on his knees. The wind keeps blowing, each gust a cruel mark of the distance growing between the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add a joke about four dads and the three rich sons dating the last dad's stripper son I found on tumblr, but I'm afraid it'd be plagiarizing, so kindly settle for Kolivan having nightmares about Keith being a bride instead. 
> 
> Again, thank you very much for your kudos and comments, I treasure them like the sugar daddies and the BOM treasures Keith.
> 
> The Matt/Regris at the end was recently added, by the way. I just had the idea and felt it too good to pass up, sorry if it's not your preferred container of beverage. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also... If I were to, say... make a total PWP gangbang... with Keith and all the sugar daddies... would you want to read it or not?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the italics btw


End file.
